Others
by LoyaulteMeLie
Summary: The return of old friends brings great excitement. But is everything what it seems?


**StarTrek and all its intellectual property belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended, no profit made.**

**Beta'd by VesperRegina, to whom I am, as always, indebted.**

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It was the light that alerted me first.

Light, of course, is foreign to us. Down here in the burrows and the caves we have little use for it, since we have evolved largely to do without. Hearing and smell and touch serve us just as well, though it is the last two on which we primarily rely.

So – let the People allow me to tell my tale without interruption – I knew at once, when the light came, smarting on my eyes, that Others had returned to us.

All of the People know the Tales of the Others. The Others, who walk on only two legs; whose names we know, though our mouthparts could never reproduce them. They came long ago, and come no more. In the eternal night of the tunnels, we tell the Tales and wonder, marvelling that such things could be. Once, after much secret practice, Ooba stunned us all by using his mouthparts to somehow produce a sound that closely resembled the name by which the Others called themselves:

_'Zinzi'._

But he never would do so again, saying that it was an act that felt like a wrongness; and we all touched him, to show that we understood, though the wonder of it passed in among the Tales themselves, because we had heard a _voice _make the sound that the Others themselves had made.

When the night comes, in the Upworld high above, and we emerge into the comfortable darkness to hunt and forage, we sense the thing that the Others left, close by the entrance of the nest. It has been there for generations, and we have all touched it and marvelled, wondering as to its purpose. It is made of in-stone, strangely and wonderfully shaped, though the front and one side seems bent and broken, as though it were a fruit fallen from a tree and split in the landing. In size it is a little smaller than the Brood Chamber; though the thought of finding a brood of Others has excited us all at one time or another, if they were there they will have perished long since, with no adults to tend them.

So when the light came, I stopped at once.

I was in the Second Nursery, caring for the young there. Touching them gently, stimulating them to walk, teaching them to communicate and putting a stop to any arguments that showed a sign of breaking out. The young can be quarrelsome and need much guidance; jaws as strong as ours must be used wisely.

But the light – the _light!_

And _voices!_

I was excited beyond the telling.

The young scented my excitement instantly. They crowded over me, asking questions, demanding reassurance.

I dared not say _The Others have come. _They are too newly hatched yet to have shared the Tales, and they would have wanted the whole, there and then, when of course the Tales are a thing to be shared at leisure, in the comfort and community of the Chamber.

So I told them _There is a new thing_, which is as much as I thought they could understand of such events. And I told them, of course, _You must stay here, where you are safe, till I come back._

It is a good thing that the young are conditioned to obedience. When other Nests raid, it is of the utmost importance that the young do as they are told. We were all brought up on darker tales, too – those that tell of eggs and young being carried off to captivity in other Nests, and never seen again. Because of those tales, the sentries patrol the borders of our territory, and many more of them wait below in ceaseless vigilance, waiting for the single command of that scent we dread to catch.

_Attack!_

So I had no fear of the young disobeying and following me as I crept from the Second Nursery; but I was careful beyond agony to control the pheromones I released. The burrows are designed so that air flows constantly through them, and the sentries will react to the tiniest suggestion that the Home is under assault. For all that their great silent shapes are familiar, they are not the less intimidating for that. Their huge curved jaws are sleek and menacing in the darkness. They rarely move, and are completely harmless to the other inhabitants of the nest, but the sense of their sleepless vigilance pervades the whole burrow, strong and reassuring.

I do not know whether they listen to the Tales. I do not know whether they think about them. But I am quite sure that if they sense _Attack! _they will not care about the Others. Anything that does not smell of Home will die if it does not kill them first.

Therefore, I made absolutely sure that my scents would not convey any sense of threat-fear as I moved silently towards the light and the voices. I would see what there was to be seen, and then return at once to the One and make my report. She and her Elders would make the decision on what should be done, how the returning Others should be greeted and made welcome.

What days were these!

As it grew stronger, the light stung my eyes, so that my antennae began stroking them automatically, trying to ease the sensation. The voices buzzed in my feet, as well as in my knees and antennae. The Tales had not mentioned these details, but a few discomforts were a small price to pay for the privilege of seeing with my own eyes the Others who had at last come back to visit us.

At last only a turn of the burrow hid me from them. The softly moving air brought their scents to me strongly, and I tasted each one. There were two Others. They smelled warm and soft, with small intriguing differences such as the hint of in-stone and not-skin; maybe, when friendly relations had been once more renewed, I would be permitted to run my antennae over these last and learn more about their nature. The Tales tell that the Others cover their bodies in not-skin because their real skin is soft, like that of a larva.

Maybe they would even allow us to feel that for ourselves!

My excitement was indescribable. I crept up to the corner, hoping that I might have the opportunity to take one look, unseen; the hard white shapes of the light were travelling over the floor and the lower half of the burrow, and if I reared up to my greatest height and leaned forward with extreme stealth, the Others might not see me.

So...

_I was seeing them. I was seeing the Others. I was seeing the Xindi._

Two of them, of differing sizes, but both indeed wearing not-skin, the colour of the evening sky in the Upworld when Hot Yellow has gone: the smaller one in front, one of his claws holding a light-maker and the other some other object of in-stone, and the taller one perhaps three egg-lengths behind him. (I was sure they were both males, because the Tales tell that the females have bulges on the thorax.) The small one had black fur on the top of his head, but that of the taller one was shorter and lighter.

I do not know how they knew that I was there, but it seemed they were ready for me to appear. Maybe the smaller of the two was a sentry of the Others, perpetually vigilant. The other, perhaps, was a male One; his greater size certainly suggested so. If a One had come to us, we would have to show him every respect.

The white light that swung straight into my eyes was appallingly painful. I reared back, squealing in my mind; though I remembered even so, _not _Attack!_, not _Attack!_, these are the Others!_

The sentry's shout was so loud it hurt my auditory organs. He raised the claw holding the piece of in-stone, and a shaft of red light just missed my head. Then both of the Others turned and ran.

I stared after them in disbelief.

How could they so have misunderstood the situation? The Xindi knew we were harmless to them. Surely their Tales would tell them so?

Panicking, I ran after them, clicking my mouthparts and mandibles frantically. _Stop, I am your friend. Why are you afraid?_

In the Tales, we had been able to communicate.

Now, however, there was only confusion and fear. I was afraid they would hurt themselves, colliding with the burrow walls they could not see well in the poor light; that they would tear their soft skin, that must be so very delicate with no exoskeleton to protect it. I clicked still more loudly, gesturing desperately with my head to convey my non-hostile intentions as I chased them.

_Stop! Come back!_

When I was almost on them, the sentry paused and sent the red-light towards me again. Of course, he would take any risk to protect his One. For all his small size by comparison, our sentries would call him brother.

This time the light struck one of my antennae, causing a hot, burning sensation there. My shriek of pain-scent would have echoed down the burrow if it had been sound. Catching it, the sentries would raise their heavy heads, testing the air for _Attack! _to follow it. But still, I did not send that, though the pain brought me rearing on my hind legs so hard that the back of my head struck the roof.

The light was brightening, although growing softer and more diffuse. I realised that we were nearing the burrow entrance, and that in the Upworld, Hot Yellow was still high. I could not go out there; I would be blinded. Only the sentries' eyes were able to cope with light of that intensity.

I clicked and clicked again, tapping my abdomen on the burrow wall to reinforce the urgency. But the Others did not listen, or would not hear. They fled out into the brightness, unheeding of my utter dismay as I plunged to a halt, my mandibles clashing with pain and sorrow. Moments later my auditory organs detected a deafening sound outside that could only mean that the Others had left us, as mysteriously as they had arrived.

They had gone.

Dejectedly I turned around and returned to bring my account to the People. And now the tale is told, the sorry all of it.

I do not know what I did wrong, but that is not my decision to make.

Judge me.

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**All reviews received with gratitude!**


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